Clark and Mobsters Prefer Pink
by Starry Lites
Summary: Lois has a brilliant infiltration plan, but she needs a little guidance; her guidance comes in the form of her naive partner, the perfect man to model skanky dresses to. Follows the Chris Reeve films.


Entering the Daily Planet, Clark expected two things: one, the chatter and babble meant he could not have superhearing tuned in without blowing his eardrums; two, he would hear "Kent!" or "Clark!" or "CK!" the moment he walked in the door. The last few days Perry had been the first, Jimmy was on vacation, so that probably meant it was—

"Clark!"

—Lois' turn.

While tripping on the hat rack, he placed his hat on the very top and snagged his coat on one of the hooks, stepping out of it. "Yes, Lois?" he called back, fixing his glasses into their proper place on his nose.

He searched the room for her brunette waves, but couldn't find her. The newsroom was still in the middle of the morning shuffle, and Lois was camouflaged within the sea. When he finally found her crouched over her desk with her backside sticking out behind her, she was muttering under her breath as if she hadn't called Clark at all in the first place.

"Perhaps something in Burgundy. Oh! No, I think gold with some blue accents. Or perhaps just pale blue; that has always been a good color for me. But I want to stand out, so maybe flashy would be best. But flashy can be trashy, and that would defeat the purpose. Or maybe—"

Clark cleared his throat.

Lois popped up into a proper posture and smiled. "Oh, good morning, Clark. Did you hear me call you?"

"Actually, Lois, yes I did. I couldn't see you, but I figured you were over somewhere by your desk, although I have to admit I couldn't understand how you could tell I entered the room because I couldn't see you, and—"

"Bright red!" Lois said excitedly, cupping her hands over his cheek. "Bright red, like fire engine red. Yes. That is going to be absolutely perfect!"

"Perfect? Perfect for what, Lois?"

"I need you to go shopping with me," she jabbered, straightening the tie that Clark was pretty sure he'd already straightened well enough. "See, I've been doing some reading, in this magazine."

Clark chuckled nervously, still trying to grasp the situation his coworker was dragging him into. "Lois, you know reading always gives you wild ideas. It's been a general consensus that you need to stick to writing. Better for everyone's health."

"Don't be ridiculous, no one's said that. Besides, this was good reading." She straightened his collar. Clark started to wonder if he was going to be put through some kind of test she wasn't telling him about; whether that was true or not, Lois Lane playing with his tie and collar was extremely uncomfortable, in more ways than one.

"Yes, but, Lois, good reading to you is usually dangerous for the rest of us. And that's not just me making things up, now, that comes directly from Perry. And Jimmy ended up with that broken arm over one of your other ideas you got from a magazine, remember? Six months ago?"

Lois rolled her eyes and patted his cheek calmingly, a simple little smirk dancing across her lips. It took immense concentration to not lean forward and press his lips against hers. "You, my dear Kansas friend, are simply paranoid, as is everyone else in this office. Come on, Smallville, we're going shopping, whether you like it or not."

Clark scanned the newsroom for an excuse. Superman had the power to say, _No, Lois, I don't want to go shopping with you_. He was not Superman, however; he was only Clark, and Clark wasn't brave enough to stand up to Lois. Perhaps that could be Clark's next area of improvement: no guts except to Lois Lane.

Then again, maybe not.

"Fine, Lois. But don't we have assignments to work on? I can't imagine this little adventure of yours was approved by Perry."

"Oh, this is part of an assignment. Perry told me to take some someone unimportant with me, and Jimmy's gone and all...don't worry, about it, Clark." In a flash, her coat was back on her shoulders, her purse in hand.

"Who's worried?" he asked with a nervous laugh, letting his body slump from his shoulders.

***

Shopping with Lois, Clark realized, took more bravery and stamina than rescuing her from a falling helicopter, or from being buried alive by an earthquake, or from an Eiffel Tower about to blow up, or from cascading over Niagara Falls…

He took a solid, deep breath. Those were Superman's trouble, not Clark's. Well…Niagara Falls had been his problem. An audible groan slipped between his lips just thinking about that day and Clark forced himself to shut his eyes and clear his head. Thinking about Niagara Falls was just asking for trouble.

"Clark! Come on, you're supposed to be helping, not dozing." Clark opened his eyes and let her thrust five dresses into his hands. "Okay, now we need to find a fitting room."

Lois stood on her tiptoes, eyes darting around the department store. Clark, preferring to not look like an ostrich, focused his hearing on the telltale _ding-dong_ of someone entering a fitting room. He smiled and nodded to the corner behind her. "I think there's one over there." He shifted the dresses, all of which threatened to fall out of his hands.

Lois turned around and her posture perked up considerably. "Good job, Clark. How'd you spot those so easily?"

"Oh, uh…" He cleared his throat. "It was directly in my line of sight, Lois, that's all."

"Well I'm glad you saw them. Let's go." Clark trudged along behind her and took a better look at the dresses she'd been stockpiling. Every last one was sleeveless, strapless, short, and—for lack of a better word, skimpy. They were also nothing like the prim, proper, well-dressed Lois Lane that he worked with every day, nor were they the Lois Lane who dressed to impress Superman.

They walked into the fitting room, one of the associates glaring at Clark over the top of her glasses. He made a slight smile, and Lois smashed a hand to his chest. "He's with me. He's my consultant." The associate gave Clark another look over, rolled her eyes, and left them be. Absently, Clark went to push the glasses up his nose, forgetting that he was holding the dresses, and they pillowed around each other into a heap on the floor.

"Oh, Clark, for heaven's sake. You make it all the way in here without incident, then two seconds before I need them—" She snatched up the pile and disappeared behind the curtain.

Clark looked around uncomfortably. Another woman came in to try on some clothes, audibly gasped at Clark's presence, and scurried back out. "Lois, what exactly do you want me to do? Wouldn't it be better if I waited outside? And you could come out there and show me the dresses?"

The curtains shifted and Lois' head popped out on one side, her eyes wild. "You expect me to go out in these flimsy little _frocks_? No. You stay put!" She disappeared and Clark straightened like he'd just been given a terrible reprimand. Resigned to humiliation, he slumped against the wall and watched her feet dance around under the bottom of the curtain.

"Perhaps this is a ridiculous question, Lois, but I have to wonder why you're even trying on these, as you called them, 'flimsy little frocks' if you're afraid to walk twenty feet while wearing one."

The curtain zipped to one side and Lois stood there in the red one. Her bra was on the floor behind her, but it would've been pointless in the dress she was wearing. It was strapless, and the bust line, well, accentuated her—assets. Furthermore, Clark felt his cheeks flare to a color deeper than that over Lois' dress.

Irritated, she flung the curtain closed again and tossed the dress over the top at Clark. "Obviously that wasn't it."

Clark blinked and stared at the curtain curiously. "What wasn't it, Lois? Honestly, you need to be more straightforward. You have this tendency to only explain half of what you're talking about."

She reappeared again, now in periwinkle. It was reminiscent of the dress she'd put on for her first "interview" with Superman and her later date with Clark. It wasn't near as flamboyant as its predecessor, and Clark found himself smiling goofily, his mind wandering.

Lois rolled her eyes. "That was definitely not the right reaction." That dress followed the red one over the top of the changing stall soon enough, and Clark found himself having to bite back the desire to take a peak at which one she was going to try next. That, he knew, was very wrong. And, technically speaking, Clark couldn't do that anyway, only Superman.

Not that he always followed that particular rule.

Lois resurfaced this time in a pink—something. It had enough cleavage to cause an avalanche, and not enough of anything else. Who needed x-ray vision? Lois' trim figure showed itself well, and the dress hugged tight to her sides and hips. The skirt ended at mid thigh, and though it was frilled and had numerous layers, slits carried up nearly to her hips, opening for a good glimpse when she shifted. Belatedly he noticed that it had worthless spaghetti straps, and Lois was grinning.

"What?" At least, that's what Clark meant to say. It came out closer to "Wooo-uuut?"

Lois let out one short _Ha_ and her grin shifted to smirk. "That was the look I needed. Do you have anything else to say?"

Still in enough of a stupor that his brain wasn't quite able to function, Clark stumbled out, "I like pink very much, Lois." He froze and tried to recover his slip with a pained smile, readjusting his glasses.

Lois laughed. If she'd connected the slipup, she didn't make it known. That was a relief. "Thank you, Clark. See, my magazine said to get the right reaction, look for sex signals. I figured if I could make your eyes bug out like you wanted to take me home and do sexual experiments on me, it would be perfect for the mobsters I'm planning to charm tonight."

Clark was very grateful she disappeared to change back into her normal clothes. His overall look and posture would have been hideously embarrassing.

Did she say mobsters?

***

It was ten 'o clock, and Clark had spent a quiet evening at home with a book on his balcony. It wasn't much of a balcony, nothing compared to Lois' garden she kept, but it was enough for a lawn chair, a bamboo table, and a reading lamp hooked up to an extension cord. It would've been quieter if he dared take his ears off guard.

But he couldn't. Not knowing what Lois was wearing, what she had in her evening plans.

He put his book down and leaned back, letting his eyes drift to the stars, to a magical night when Lois Lane had known the truth, and Superman didn't have to be smothered down by Clark Kent's exterior…or was it Clark Kent didn't have to be bothered by Superman's constant need to interfere? Whichever, he'd been one person that night, Lois the solidifying link between both of his halves.

She was the only part of himself he couldn't stand to see get hurt, even though it was part of himself that was _constantly_ in danger. Not on accident, either; she usually chose to be there. Add a skimpy pink dress that accentuated all the right spots and it was a night primed for…

"SUPERMAN! HELP!"

Clark smiled and pulled his glasses off.


End file.
